Forever
by tearsofphoenix
Summary: For some time now, her friendship with Severus had no longer been based just on her kind disposition and on his renewed wish to feel alive... A story about promises, books, misunderstandings, chances, changes and... synonyms. SSHG EWE - COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Forever**

By tearsofphoenix

Standard disclaimer applies – it's all JKR's

_This fan fiction looks at how the opening left at the end of my __last story, "Just one more time", might develop. The title echoes the last words of that previous story._

_Many thanks to Whitehound, who edited with her unique care, and to my patient previewer Lady Memory. Without their help this story couldn't be here._

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**Chapter I**

_May, 1999._

That morning, an uproarious crowd had gathered in the bookshop, while those that couldn't be held inside were rapidly occupying all the space in front of its entry.

Many excited customers, most of whom were thrilled females, were eagerly awaiting the book-signing of the brand-new biography "_Severus Snape: Scoundrel or Saint?"_ by Rita Skeeter, which had gone on sale only that morning.

"Remember him since my school days," a blonde witch was almost shouting, barely able to keep her place in the long queue in front of Flourish and Blotts, surrounded as she was by the thrilled mob. "That man always scared the hell out of me!"

"Don't you believe what Harry Potter said, then?" another one inquired, quite menacingly.

"I for one trust everything he says! He was such a hero!" a third, plump woman declared with a sugary voice.

After having silently cast a Disillusionment charm on herself, Hermione Granger went out of the shop, a copy of the book hidden in her robes.

Everything reminded her all too well of a very similar situation which had occurred at the beginning of her second year at Hogwarts. She blushed in shame at the memory: yet, she couldn't help a final glance at the several copies of the book displayed in the windows of the bookshop, before leaving in a hurry.

The mischievous picture of the author never stopped winking at the wizard whose photo, on the other hand, displayed an unreadable expression and the firm resolution not to look at the blonde witch with whom he shared the front cover in equal proportions.

Hermione grinned and finally left.

Of course, she had felt compelled to buy the book, and now she couldn't wait to read how the whole story had turned out.

She _knew _that, this time, the probable lack of truth wasn't just the fault of the author… but, knowing Skeeter's infamous quill as well as she did, Hermione felt sure that the secret she shared with Snape wasn't going to be the only difference between reality and fiction in Rita's book.

Hermione Granger was the only one who knew what had really happened during the last year; but, in spite of that, she didn't know everything. She couldn't claim to be certain of the meanings of the words said, of the events which had occurred and of "his" real thoughts, during that time.

Reading the book and trying to connect it to the experiences she had lived through in the past months could perhaps make a better understanding possible. And, anyway, she wanted to know what everyone else would learn about Severus Snape from that reading.

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November, 1998

It was on a morning six months before the signing that the headline of the _Prophet_ had caught her attention.

"Malfoy trial begins!"

Hermione was at the Burrow, having breakfast with Ron and Ginny because, as a matter of fact, since her parents' return - an event that had brought an awkward feeling of distance, rather than peace, to her family - she had neglected her real home more and more.

She threw away the paper, and began sipping her hot chocolate without much enthusiasm, lending a distracted ear to the conversation around her.

"He has to start practising - you know, field-work," Ron was saying proudly, in response to his sister's complaints about the increasing duties and absences that the Auror's training demanded of Harry; so, he didn't notice Hermione's mood, at first.

But later, when they were alone, snuggled in the old armchair, he realized.

"Surely you wouldn't want to go to testify or to witness it!" he commented. "The prosecutpr already has your testimony, so you don't need to relive that dreadful night!"

"They weren't those the ones who tortured me, Ron, and Harry keeps saying that Draco's mother helped him at the end," she whispered.

After a protective hug, he tried again to persuade his girlfriend; but, as ever, she followed her will, and later, after the trial, she was satisfied with her decision.

Narcissa Malfoy's declaration had been the source of Hermione's contentment.

The woman's solicitor had tried to convince the Wizengamot and the public that what Narcissa had done had been prompted by her love for her son: therefore, he had urged the aristocratic witch to tell how she had asked Snape to take an Unbreakable Vow. Narcissa, in her attempt to move the audience, had melodramatically described the place, the way she had reached that miserable Muggle house, and every little detail of that encounter.

Listening to her plea, that had clearly been prepared to grant the woman an aura of redemption similar to Snape's, Hermione had initially been quite disgusted.

It had really been just a blatant attempt to fascinate the court, until some words of Narcissa's speech elicited a very different feeling in the girl's heart; perhaps it had been just a trick meant to prolong the hearing, but it had turned out as a revelation to the young witch, all the same.

That description gave to Hermione a great deal to think about and, above all, the incentive she had been searching for for a long time.

Suddenly, she was certain of having found a very good reason to eventually refresh her acquaintance with her new "friend", the most dreadful among her former professors, the not very much dead Severus Snape.

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After a long time spent wondering about her decision to keep in touch with him, she had at last recovered the confidence that up to that moment had failed her: previously, every possible reason to visit him had seemed trivial to her, and she had feared so much to be considered an annoyance – and therefore to be rejected by him - that she had almost forgotten that Snape' s last words had granted her further meetings.

The knowledge acquired at the trial, and even more the reports read in the newspapers, made it impossible for Hermione to wait another minute.

"Miss Granger," the wizard greeted her as soon as she materialised in front of his door. "What's the reason for such hurry? Why has your visit suddenly become so compelling after such a long silence?"

Had two months already passed since the one and only time in which she had found his secret shelter in Ireland? Hermione entered the house and looked at him with a mix of frankness and awkwardness before speaking.

"Did you read the newspapers, yesterday?"

He didn't answer, but waited for her words, thus making her assume that no, he hadn't yet.

"Well, there was Malfoys' trial, you know".

He nodded. Clearly, he knew, though the event hadn't induced him to change his resolution to stay where and how he was: far from the British Wizarding World, finally in peace.

"They were judged according to their different degrees of guilt," she said, "and they weren't punished too harshly, in the end. Draco's mother was given the most lenient judgement, and only Lucius will spend time in Azkaban".

No comments followed her words; despite the politeness with which he had welcomed her, Hermione was beginning to feel uneasy under his scrutiny, almost expecting disdainful assertions such as "I don't see what all this has to do with me".

But then:

"I'm glad of the news, Miss Granger," he said. "They weren't as deeply involved in the worst crimes of Voldemort as is generally believed… they weren't active murderers or torturers, either" he concluded, and, for a brief moment, Hermione was sure she saw a shadow of regret in his eyes, something very similar to pain.

Yet she wasn't so eager to trust the best of the charming trio.

Some memories came to her mind: Lucius giving Ginny Riddle's diary, Narcissa speaking in contempt, Draco underlining his pure-blood status, and their eagerness to inform the Dark Lord in order to receive his praise, that terrible night in which Harry, Ron and herself had been caught and brought to the Manor.

All that wasn't exactly her idea of helplessness.

And then… well, yes, eventually they had done something good – or better, they had "omitted to do something bad" - and those omissions redeemed their past a bit… so she suddenly decided to avoid a quarrel on the matter, especially because she felt how tactless it would be to begin a discussion about atonement or guilt with Snape, of all people.

"I still fail to understand the need for such urgency, though," he went on. "Your owl was positively frantic, I recall," he commented, finally showing some curiosity.

"Narcissa spoke of you, Sir," Hemione answered. "She told the Wizengamot about the Unbreakable Vow, and then she described your house, giving far too many details about its location and its appearance… So, I regret to inform you that, since then, the place is assaulted daily by fanatics, monitored by the Ministry, and if you should ever wish to come back, your presence would be spotted immediately."

"I see" he commented with a sigh after a brief pause. "Thank you for your concern, Miss Granger, though you do know that my return is a very remote possibility, don't you?"

"I know, Sir… but …" unable to restrain herself anymore, she almost cried. "Your books!! Madame Malfoy said that your living room was 'covered' with books!"

Then, after a long breath. "How could you live here without them? I would have liked to bring them to you, in case you wanted to have some of them here, but now, now it's impossible to reach the place without being detected!"

Slightly amused by her outburst, Snape suddenly noticed that they were still standing near the door, and remembered his manners.

"Well, this is the issue, then. I must give some thought to the matter. Thank you for the information. May I offer you something to drink? Tea, perhaps?"

"Thank you, Sir," she answered, advancing further in the middle of the room and sitting on a chair near the table.

There weren't any couches or armchairs, and, once more, Hermione wondered why he had chosen to live that way, deprived of so many comforts.

It seemed to her that, however well she had felt he was faring during her first visit, Snape was still making amends to whomever he thought they had to be paid.

"My present life doesn't require a great many possessions,Miss Granger," he said.

Understanding that this insightful reply was due to her staring and not to his reading her mind, Hermione felt her face redden in shame for having displayed her thoughts so unkindly.

He had spoken quietly, though, and there was no bitterness in his voice.

Having always enjoyed the modern conveniences of her Muggle home and the amazing solutions offered by the magical world, Hermione felt a sudden constriction in her chest at those words; but then she looked at him with respect, while something seemed to melt inside her.

"How does it happen that you are so worried about my books, Miss Granger?" he went on, levitating the tea tray and joining her at the table: the girl looked at him, abruptly awakened from her reverie.

"When I heard Narcissa speaking of them, I couldn't bear the thought of such waste, of all those volumes neglected and useless…" She smiled tentatively. "I meant to come earlier to visit you… I would have done, but the last few weeks have been so busy, and I wanted to call earlier than today, Sir, but-"

"Miss Granger," he cut across her babbling tirade. "Stop that."

Silenced and puzzled, she looked at him.

"I wasn't reproaching you," he explained seriously. He considered her for a moment. "I would say you can stop calling me 'Sir'," he added, and an amused spark lit in his eyes. "We aren't at school anymore."

"Well, yes, as you wish," she replied, recovering her voice and her will. "As I was saying, I would have asked if you wanted to have your books here; I'm sure that they must be precious… but the whole thing became a matter of urgency as soon as they decided to put your house under surveillance!"

"If I recall what you said correctly, there's no possibility now. And," he concluded, "at the moment I'd rather do without them, but stay in peace."

"I'm so very sorry… were they magical books? Or Muggle ones? Will you need any of them for your work? I could borrow those you need somewhere else and bring them to you on a regular basis," she proposed; then, excited by the possibility of doing something effective, she added, "If you remember the titles, I can make a list and begin to search for them…"

Though initially dismissing her suggestion as something about which she didn't need to concern herself, Snape seemed gradually infected by her enthusiasm; little by little, he began to tell her how he had collected all those volumes over the years, which ones amongst them had been the more difficult to find… Hermione absorbed his every word and every name, while he enjoyed the memories elicited by her questions, and time went by without noticing.

The sky was dark when the young witch bade him good-bye: she left with the strong sensation that, after that evening, a new meeting would take place soon.

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As soon as she had left, Snape abruptly realized something that he hadn't noticed up to that evening: the loud sound of silence resounding around him.

For some time, in fact, he had convinced himself of the advantages of his solitary existence; when he wanted to enjoy some company, he could look for local meeting places or exchange a few words with his old landlord, after all.

Having suffered for almost his whole existence a far worse solitude than the one he was experiencing, he hadn't considered his current isolation a heavy burden: but he hadn't really had time to reflect on the effects of the lack of a true conversation.

The newly discovered pleasure of indulging in physical activities and outdoor excursions had made him forget the joy of reading. But that evening, after those hours spent in talking with a young woman so interested and sympathetic, it was as if a world of missed words was coming back to him, leading the way to renewed expectations.

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_December 1998_

"Harry! About time!" Hermione and Ronald greeted their friend when, still dressed in his training uniform, he arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. They had a nice meal and ate with gusto: then, relaxed, they began to share the latest news.

Ron was helping George in the shop so he spoke of his brother's business, and, of course, it was a funny tale, full of new inventions to be developed and sold.

Hermione was looking at him fondly, proud to see how Ron's presence was beneficial for the lonely twin.

But, obviously, Harry's tales were much more intriguing, and Ronald seemed anxious to join his friend again in his adventures; he declared that he would surely apply for the job as soon as his brother would be able to go on without his help.

On her side, Hermione was engrossed by the details which he was now privy to.

Then the young Auror began to tell them about the many oddities that he and the whole squad had been forced to endure. The curiosity about Snape had risen enormously among wizards and - he added grinning - witches: starting during the Malfoys' trial and increasing after the _Daily Prophet_'s announcement of Snape's forthcoming biography, the whole thing was running almost out of control, with calls from everywhere about sudden sightings of him.

Hermione knew that something had to be done, and soon, despite what Snape had declared in their last conversation… what she was hearing now, in fact, spoke of a level of craziness that wasn't lessening in the slightest, and that was beginning to sound almost dangerous.

"I was wondering, Harry… I can't help doing so since I heard Narcissa describing that magnificent collection of books… wouldn't it be possible to put them in a safer location? Or perhaps have a look at them? What if, for some reason, some thief or some fanatic in search of souvenirs should steal or ruin the most valuable of them?"

Her friends rolled their eyes in unison.

"Come on, Hermione, haven't you seen that house?" asked Ronald, with a slightly mocking tone. "It could hardly contain something valuable."

"The surveillance is not exactly tight. I'll see if will be possible to get access to that 'treasure' " Harry added winking.

"I wouldn't intrude on Snape's house, actually… but I feel that it wouldn't be right if, on the other hand, someone else should break into his place. I must think of something, I'll call you soon," she ended, her mind already planning a strategy.

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_January 1__999_

After the arrival of _her_ owl that announced a forthcoming visit, Severus Snape began pacing in the small room, irritated and worried.

His reply had been quick of necessity, because this time she hadn't asked for an appointment some days ahead, but she had let him understand that she would arrive in a few seconds, again in a great hurry, or so it seemed.

Hermione Apparated in front of him right in that moment, a small package in her hands tightened to her bosom.

"It's yours, I believe" she said softly, giving it to him.

His curiosity roused, he took the parcel, and began to unwrap it.

The old and yet fine tome was indeed his property, and looking at its title he couldn't believe he had forgotten it, during the days in which the Irish Phoenix had been his only companion… even if, perhaps, that wasn't the only memory that seemed to be missing.

It was _"Why I Didn't Die When the Augurey Cried",_ by Gulliver Pokeby, one of the oldest books he had purchased during his early years as a teacher, when he had spent all his spare time and savings in expanding his knowledge by reading whatever book spoke of the great mysteries of death. A subject that had deeply affected his studies after his greatest loss…

Fascinated, Snape looked at the young witch.

"How did you…"

"I've told you," she interrupted him in excitement, "I couldn't accept just seeing your collection wasted… So, when the opportunity arose, I went to check your bookshelves… and this seemed like a valuable little book," she explained, pointing at the date of its publication, written in red letters: 1824.

Obviously she didn't add that, having seen him feeding the greenish Augurey with great and unexpected kindness, that book had immediately appealed to her heart.

"You… what?!" he hissed. "Did you really have the cheek to enter my house, uninvited?"

Paralysed by the sudden change in his expression, though she had foreseen some such reaction to her expedition, for a moment Hermione seemed unable to go on speaking. Then:

"I know, it was terribly cheeky on my part, but please listen. I haven't told you the whole story, and I didn't go there just by myself," she managed to say, blushing.

"Sit!" he almost commanded, gesturing at the table. "And now explain!" Then, sitting in front of her, he crossed his arms and waited.

She swallowed. "You remember the trial, the articles about your house and the forthcoming book by Skeeter about you? I gather that you have read something about it, since our last meeting… well, it seems that the Ministry not only decided to watch your house and to protect it, but they also started to wonder if there were some Dark volumes amongst your books. So they sent a couple of Aurors to investigate."

Rolling his eyes, her former professor asked, "And please, since when are you a member of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad?"

She looked at him, quite smug, "I'm not. But Harry is."

"Why am I not surprised?" Snape commented, and, this time, Hermione was relieved, seeing that he wasn't truly angry about her revelation.

"He knew that I was worried about the fate of your collection, and, of course, he thought that my concern was just about the books… so I succeeded in sneaking inside when his commanding officer was distracted, and I stayed there, hidden under Harry's cloak, when they went away. I was lost in admiring all those interesting volumes, and it was hard to decide which one it was most imperative to bring to you first… when suddenly Harry came back to announce the sudden return of his colleagues. I had just discovered this little first edition and so as I left I decided to take just this, and hope its disappearance wouldn't be noticed," she concluded, pointing at the small book on the table.

"Mmm, yes, I can see you and Potter reliving the old times of theft and mischief," he commented, sourly.

"I came here immediately, Sir," she cried. "I did it for you, and I didn't want to keep that book a second more than necessary!"

"Quit whining," he admonished her, even if his tone didn't conceal completely how he was enjoying the situation, "And stop the dramatics. I understand that your intentions were good".

Confused, Hermione smiled and Snape went on. "However, I forbid you to even consider a second attempt! It isn't wise to challenge those men, and there's nothing among my books that's worth the risk".

"Do you really not miss them, then? Is your life here so full of other things?" she asked, a bit abashed.

He remembered his sensations at the end of their last long talk.

"Not really, if I were to answer either of your questions, Miss Granger. But being here means I'm not receiving studies or publications anymore; so, if you should wish to discuss them in the future, I'd be interested to know about some of the latest developments: I'm sure you will keep yourself informed," he answered, unable to conceal his interest completely in spite of his composed expression.

He shouldn't have worried. Her eyes were shining.

"Great! I'll take that as a deal!" she said. Then, blushing again, she added, "Professor, I have other news to tell you!"

She was so eager and joyful that his eyes, unconsciously, glanced at her left hand, searching for a ring while he waited for the probable cheerful announcement.

"I've started University here in Ireland," she instead surprisingly revealed. "If you were serious about new books and studies, being nearer I'll be able to come more often to discuss them with you!"

For a moment, he felt the urge for a pause from all that enthusiasm, and didn't react, visibly at a loss for words.

But then, seeing the light vanishing from her eyes, as if she was beginning to feel ashamed of her boldness, he whispered, "I was… I am serious, that is."

And, though it certainly wasn't the first subject he would have liked to discuss, he listened to her explanation about her decision to study Magic Laws, with the intent to improve them.

"Someone must put a limit on the use of Magic as a way to invade someone else's life or to threaten it! And I'm not just speaking of those horrible tracking spells, like the taboo used by Snatchers… There are so many cases in time of peace too, things that shouldn't happen! It is a huge violation of one's privacy to be always at risk of being spotted through magic, and it doesn't occur to ordinary, honest people to cast Unplottable charms on their houses to defend themselves!"

Though nodding assent, Snape wasn't really listening to her words, sure as he was that he would soon hear that topic again… he was gladly enjoying the absence of silence, and of the overwhelming sound of it.

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As time passed, it, became more and more difficult for Hermione to conceal her secret friendship. Especially to her other friends.

Questions like "Hermione, where were you last evening?" or "Why didn't you answer my call?" were beginning to be recurrent ones, while her answers were betraying an increasing sense of guilt, as she felt to be unable to give an honest explanation.

The awareness that she wasn't the only one enjoying the more and more frequent meetings with Snape, made her willing to push her luck, and to make a step further in that strange friendship.

"Where did you find those items?" she asked him in one of their encounters, sure as she was that the devices on the table hadn't been there before.

He raised an eyebrow, as if reproaching her for her indiscretion, but the lack of a direct answer gave her the opportunity to go on.

"I mean: you must have visited some magical shops, some other places, mustn't you? But, if you aren't the recluse you seemed determined to be, why don't you reveal yourself to people other than me?"

She immediately regretted her boldness though, because an unmistakable shadow passed over Snape's face: it was showing pain, more than anything else.

However, he quickly recovered his old imperturbable façade.

"Ready to break your promises, Miss Granger? Anxious to reveal my shelter?" he inquired, sourly.

"Of course not!" she exclaimed, determined to defend her point but, at the same time, trying to avoid an argument. "But I still think your seclusion and your absence from our world is a real waste!"

For some unknown reason he seemed to share her wish to drop the discussion and, though still strict and forbidding in his pose, he didn't retort but went to the cupboard. Then, turning slowly on his heels, he spoke.

"During my… how did you call them… ah yes, during my 'visits' – when, by the way, I could cast a glamour if I needed to do so, - I found this, too. Perhaps it could be of some use to you," and he gruffly handled her a massive tome that seemed very ancient.

Hermione looked at him, trying to read his expression. She had begun to perceive the different moods he displayed with her: relaxation when they talked, interest when she challenged him with questions, and kindness under the formal manners with which he greeted her every time she arrived or left.

She knew that, with her, he no longer sported the unique, obnoxious kind of appearance he had displayed to everyone in the past.

But this was the first time in which she had seen him unguarded, and suddenly he looked so very young. She found it difficult to go on speaking to him with the same distance that had always existed between them, when they were student and teacher.

"Thank you, Professor," she whispered, taking the book.

Before she could open it or have a look, he spoke again.

"You know, you can use my name now… Hermione."

"Thank you… Severus," she answered slowly, too surprised and entranced to say more.

Then the moment passed, and the book exacted their full attention, to their great relief.

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_March 1999_

She hadn't pushed anymore Severus to change his mind again, after that day, of course, but her troubles with her conscience, with her friends, and above all with Ron, hadn't ceased.

She had been able to conceal her worries for some time, until, one day…

"What have you done? Is there something wrong?" Severus inquired, a few seconds after her arrival.

Damn, he was too good at reading expressions and behaviours! Of course, he was a master at it.

"Nothing," she tried.

"Those shadows under your eyes aren't 'nothing'" he commented. "But I won't interfere if you don't feel like sharing."

She nodded gratefully, and little by little, they had started to talk about their usual subjects. But it didn't take long for him to notice that her heart wasn't really in it.

"Cup of tea?" he asked, stopping their useless debate.

She smiled feebly. And then:

"Could you go on loving someone who doesn't trust you?" she said abruptly. Then, as if realizing where her impulsive question had brought her, she went on.

"Of course you could. You have."

He had never spoken with her of private matters; so, with a sudden feeling of horror, Hermione understood how indelicate she had been with her statement. Yet, even odder, she also understood that it had felt somehow natural to say those words. How could she?

She recalled the differences that existed between them. He was older, and impossibly exasperating in so many ways. His taunts, when he was in the mood for them, still carried something of their old bite. Really, she couldn't fathom the reason for that abrupt moment of confidence. But his face was impenetrable as always.

Recovering her self-control and sighing softly, Hermione stretched a hand to touch his arm.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, lowering her head. "Please forgive my distracted manner, if you can… and yes, please, I'd like a cup of tea."

He stiffened at her touch.

"I'll prepare it," he said then, heading for the small kitchen. "Stay".

Later, standing in front of each other right before she left, he spoke again.

"There are many kind of promises and obligations, Hermione… and a few of them are worth the suffering."

Hermione looked at him, her eyes widened, then she dared to question him again. "What do you mean?"

"It wasn't difficult for me to be faithful to someone who lived just in my memory. But perhaps it wouldn't have been so easy with somebody living, you know, had we confronted each other while different choices and options were presenting themselves to us. Every day we are… choosing," he answered, looking at her with fascinating intensity.

When it became impossible to hold his gaze, the young witch opened the door and Disapparated to her flat, her feelings even more confused and upset than earlier.

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_May 1999_

Hermione closed the book and abandoned it on the couch on which she had spent the last hour. In spite of her grudges against the reporter, she had to admit that a few things, pruned of their dramatic or over-sentimental embellishments, were shining for their undeniable truth

But, ignoring that truth, a flood of memories was invading her mind nonetheless…

For some time now, her friendship with Severus had no longer been based just on her kind disposition and on his renewed wish to feel alive; Hermione's will to comfort him, offering him the care he had never received, lately had changed into a different, deeper feeling, and the witch had discovered that desire for his company had become the main reason for her visits.

She remembered their first walk together through the fields, collecting herbs for his potions; her sudden understanding of his newly found happiness in that much simpler life… her concern, when news was spread around about possible Death Eaters at large and still in search of vengeance; and her fear that they, too, could discover his shelter… concern matched and surpassed by his worries, forcefully voiced the evening that she had arrived later than usual, and he had harshly reminded her that _she_ could be one of the main targets, much more than the traitor's unknown existence…

But, above all, Hermione relived the unforgettable moment when, during a trip through the woods, a branch had cut his neck. She hadn't been able to conceal the tears at the sight of his blood, still less so at the memories that his wound had recalled… until his awkward attempt to cheer her up, a confused smile on his lips and eyes after having healed himself with a charm, had made her aware of her foolishness…

Hermione stood up, and opened her eyes to the present moment, its challenges seeming, after all, no longer so impossible to confront.

In all its morbid investigations through interviews and gossip, the book had told her the story of someone who had been impossibly devoted to just one love in his life, and always loyal to his promises.

Yet, in spite of what she had read, she was more and more uncertain about Severus' present feelings.

She wanted answers to her doubts and she realized that there was no more time to wonder, keeping her eyes closed: she decided that it was time for a new encounter.

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_Author's Notes: _

_The second and final part of this story is already written, and will be posted once it has been beta'ed._

_According to Lexicon: "_Why I Didn't Die When the Augurey Cried_ by Gulliver Pokeby was published in 1824 by Little Red Books: this book contains the results of a patient research revealing that, far from being a death omen, the cry of the Augurey merely indicates the approach of rain" (FB). Believe it or not, I discovered the existence of this title _after_ having written and published "Just one more time" on this site, and what a nice surprise it was…_

_The section breaks are borrowed, as in my previous stories, from: www. whitehound. co. uk/Fanfic/ffn_how-to. htm (remember to remove the spaces after the dots)._


	2. Chapter 2

**Forever**

By tearsofphoenix

Standard disclaimer applies – it's all JKR's

_Many thanks to Whitehound, who edited with her unique care, and to my patient previewer Lady Memory. Without their precious and friendly help this story couldn't be here._

**Chapter II**

_May 1999_

This time, she didn't Apparate directly into his home as she usually did, nor did she write to announce her arrival.

She landed near the place where she had first seen him alive, nearly a year ago.

There, on the riverbanks of the beautiful An Ruachtach, she had experienced one of the greatest joys of her life… before being rejected by a harsh reply.

It was late spring, now, and the place was shining with lights and colours: it looked different from the sight that she remembered but it was splendid anyway.

After a few moments of contemplation, Hermione began to walk slowly but determinedly towards the old house where Snape had decided to hide himself.

Despite her resolution to focus only on the present and on her hopes, she couldn't avoid a last memory flashing in her mind. It concerned their most recent encounter and the memory to some extent guided her steps as she relived it.

ψΨψΨψΨψΨψΨψΨψΨψΨψΨψΨψΨψ ψΨψΨψΨψΨψΨψΨψΨψΨψΨψΨψΨψ

_April 1999_

"This time you can't give me 'nothing' as an answer," he had greeted her on that occasion, looking at her pale face and at her unhappy expression. "Something has clearly happened to you".

"You're right, as always," she answered, adding with a faint smile, "And I would like to share my thoughts with you, if you don't mind a long talk and possible nonsense."

He invited her to sit. Despite her state of distress, Hermione noticed that there was new furniture in his austere living room: a light brown velvety couch, small but nice and comfortable.

He didn't join her on it, though, but took a chair and waited patiently.

"I had a final quarrel with Ron. We've broken up. I shouldn't be surprised, but it hurts, all the same." She looked at him, tentatively, with tear-filled eyes.

He was watching her silently, as if inviting her to tell him more, so she went on.

"I have loved him since the first time we met. They were there, on that train, Harry and Ron, each of them so excited and yet so clumsy. Ronald couldn't ever see the dirt on his nose without my advice! I had to show them true Magic, you know? A bit of swish and flick and Harry's glasses were Reparoed…"

Snape raised an eyebrow, but succeeded in keeping his mouth shout. She didn't notice.

"It has always been Ron: he was the one who needed to be considered, the one who craved respect and praise. With Harry, I shared so many things: our Muggle side, a mutual loyalty that didn't need ratification… But Ronald was different. He was the one completely immersed in the magical world. He knew so many things, a knowledge that all the books in the world couldn't have taught to me… and he always protected me, defended me…" she continued, regret and longing showing in the sound of her voice. "There must be something, a sort of charm that blinds our eyes and hides the truth when we are too young, don't you think?"

Again he didn't answer, but she felt she had his whole attention.

"I was used to his tempers, and to his joking side: they didn't bother me any longer, well, at least not too much… or so I thought. But then, lately, he has started to behave as if all these years meant nothing, always suspicious about my absence, as if I had secret dates with some Irish students, throwing his humiliation in my face every time I succeeded in having the last word. And I tried to change, but perhaps it was too late."

"Why are you telling all this to me?" he finally inquired, softly.

"Because I feel you are my friend, Severus. And not just because I can call you by your given name. You have been so kind as to notice and ask, and speaking to you makes me feel better…"

"Of course, I was the one who asked you the reason for your clearly distressed state… but why all these confidences, all these details?"

He didn't end with "which I haven't asked for", but those unexpressed words seemed to hang in the air, just as if they had actually been said.

She tried again. "I feel confused, and you have become almost a confidant for me, these last few months… That's what friends are for, isn't it? Of course I've got Harry and Ginny, but it isn't the same now… and I have to say that my being unavailable so often without a convincing explanation has affected their trust in me, as well as Ron's," she added.

"I assume it is all my fault, isn't it? I suppose that this deplorable situation is due to your promise to keep my existence secret."

"No, of course not! Well, perhaps a bit…" she hesitated, without noticing the slight change in his expression, too engrossed as she was in her worries.

"Then there is a simple way to make happiness come back, Miss Granger," he said. "Just cease your visits and apologise to your friends… as I told you, only a very small number of promises are worth the suffering."

She looked at him, disoriented and a bit hurt at having been addressed in such a formal way.

"But… Severus, you have misunderstood. We've broken up, I said so, and that wasn't our first quarrel, but the last of many! I'm not going to 'cease' anything, as I want to stay friends with you."

"Then let's see how long your good intentions will last, Hermione. I would suggest, for my and for your sake, that you should… ah… take the time to meditate further about your choices. My life is full at the moment, and I can assure you that I won't miss your presence."

She had hardly been able to conceal the tears, at those statements. Feeling even more hurt now than when she had arrived, she had nodded in dismay, then she had abruptly got up and headed for the door, barely hearing the bitter words that he had whispered at the last.

"Soon you'll thank me… I'm sure."

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_May 1999_

Those last words were the ones that resounded in her ears now: so, in the hope of having previously misunderstood their real meaning, she arrived at his door, and knocked.

His look of surprise was priceless, even though it didn't last, as it was almost immediately replaced by an unreadable expression.

"Hello, Severus."

"Hermione… do enter," he answered briskly.

"I bet you haven't read this, yet" she started, handling the infamous biography to him.

The lightness in her tone didn't betray the fear she had of making things worse. But he took a quick look at the book and smirked.

"You win. But I had already got a fair idea of the blasted thing from the advertisement published weeks ago!"

"This explains your scowling photo on the cover, then" she replied, glad for the good disposition that he seemed to display. Emboldened, she went straight to her point.

"I've missed our talks."

"I'd be a liar to say that I haven't," he answered, not realising how his present sincerity contradicted the last bitter words with which he had bidden her goodbye in their last encounter.

"However, don't worry," she hurried to reassure him. "I won't bother you with the long tale of what has happened since our last meeting."

She smiled, trying to keep a light tone. Then she glanced at the book that he was still holding in his hands, and she couldn't repress her need to know any longer.

"It is true, then?"

He frowned inquisitively and she swallowed under his gaze: but then she went on, determined to find the answer that she was seeking.

"It is true that… that you loved Lily and you always will?"

Snape stared at her; then, perceiving that there was more behind her query than mere curiosity, he replied earnestly.

"I haven't posed this question to myself for a long time. But, for an even longer time, I have been sure that she was the only one I dared consider a friend. So, yes, it's impossible to deny how much I loved Lily and how much I'll always love her…"

She blinked.

His words had a acrid taste, but she couldn't let him know how much she had hoped to hear a different answer; so, she went on, trying to keep a light façade.

"I understand, Severus, that mine was a very private question. And had anybody told me, a year ago, that one day we would have had this kind of conversation, I would have thought that they were mad."

He seemed to weigh her words, and she felt her agitation grow at his silence.

"You know," she tried again, "Today I Apparated to the place where I first saw you after the end of the war, and remembered how awfully that meeting ended… so, now I'm so grateful for your confidence! And I hope we will be friends… forever."

"Yes, well, I don't regret that day either, nor your visits. Should I gather that you have solved your difficulties?"

Still too concentrated on keeping her feelings under control, she answered quickly, without giving him too many explanations.

"Yes, yes, I have, Severus."

Then, feeling her composure definitely crumble, and searching for an excuse for a dignified exit, she added hastily, "It's late: I'm sorry, but I have to go".

He didn't reply, but stared at her with his peculiar gaze. She lowered her head, avoiding those too perceptive eyes of his, and awkwardly ended, "I just wanted to know if we were still friends".

Sensing her anguish increase intolerably, Hermione finally turned to the door.

"See you soon, I hope," she whispered, and she was gone.

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He hadn't really understood what had just happened; in a way, he was feeling that, for a wizard considered one of the best in reading minds, he had perhaps failed to live up to his fame.

Hearing her saying that she needed to go, and that things were being resolved, he had been sure he understood her meaning: she was happily getting back together with her Weasley, and there were no more troubles in paradise anymore.

But, then, why had she still had that anxious and saddened look? And why had she come to see him?

He knew that his words had been what had sent her away, a few weeks before. So, when Hermione had once more arrived at his door, he had expected her to show anxiety. But she hadn't displayed such feelings, at the beginning, and they had both started talking again as if everything were right.

Then, just when she had assured him that her problems had been solved, she had changed; confused, he had let her go away without asking for further explanations.

During the days of her absence, when he had had a lot of time to think and to feel even more the weight of his loneliness, he had imagined that when Hermione came back she would be serene and lively.

But then, on the contrary, when they had finally met again, when they could have finally talked of what they had missed of each other during that time, when he could have put his thoughts into words, something, somewhere during that short encounter, had gone wrong, or so it seemed.

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A few meetings later, he was absolutely certain of his failure.

She was bravely trying to conceal her true feelings, but she didn't always succeed in keeping up her act, and he could easily detect her anxiety.

Her uneasiness showed up through little things, like her slight flinching when they accidentally brushed against each other, an unexpected blushing of her cheeks, or when she suddenly and inexplicably turned silent.

She had never reacted like that earlier, and he felt that her behaviour wasn't due to a sudden revulsion, nor to a sort of possible regret towards her ex boyfriend.

And "ex" he was indeed, as Snape had learned when the truth had casually slipped out. But, to his surprise, she had displayed neither bitterness nor the sad expression he had noticed in their previous encounter; as a matter of fact, her face had revealed only an unfeigned nonchalance.

That day, he remembered, they had begun by talking of her studies.

"_I'm very happy to have chosen an Irish University!" she had exclaimed, "even if it is an obscure one. "I'm not sure if it'd be so easy attending a more famous one, for a Muggle-born like me…"_

"_You were always more than prepared for exams at school, and you were ready to sit them ages before they took place," he had answered._

_She had reacted by beaming at his words, but then-_

"_Well, yes, but that isn't exactly what I meant. Old prejudices against Mudbloods are still going on… and not all the pure-bloods would react with the same intensity my ex boyfriend displayed when someone offended me with that name, I bet… my relationships here are much more friendly," she had ended, and he had been so shocked by the unexpected revelation disguised in her words, that hadn't reacted as he always did to the use of that infamous title._

On the contrary, she had suddenly realised what that insult must recall for him, and had covered her mouth in shame, anxiety veiling the light in her eyes.

_He had immediately tried to reassure her._

"_A war was fought and won to cancel that discrimination, Hermione… and you should be proud of the role you had in it."_

Yet his words had elicited only a feeble little smile from her, and he had suddenly felt as if his kindness was adding distress, instead of lessening it_._

Then she had gone and, lost in meditation, he had relived in his mind all the memories he had of her, the many moments they had shared, the way in which she had slowly grown to become so strangely important to him.

Looking around, he noticed the many small changes into which she had little by little lead him, and without any need to use spoken suggestion… Through her, he had understood that his presently frugal existence _could_ do with some slight improvement.

He had settled into a new and simple life in Ireland, having reached a convenient agreement with the old owner of the house where he was living now, and for whom Snape prepared the potions needed to keep him healthy. Lately, a few neighbours had also started to ask him for his potions, but he was finally beginning to realize that what had started as a simple way to afford his meagre expenses couldn't continue forever, neither as a way of living nor as a job.

Every part of his house, every place where they had been together, was a reminder of the young woman: their first encounter, when she had looked at him and at the green phoenix through the window, so mesmerized that she hadn't even noticed the heavy rain soaking her… their first conversation, during which, little by little, he had ceased to be able any longer to dismiss her questions as condescendingly as he had always done when at Hogwarts… the moments in which he had felt the desire to made her comfortable in his company, and therefore had actively started to search for ways to make her feel at home… a whole collection of memories showing Hermione's presence in his life was fluttering in front of his eyes, until he knew, and finally understood, that her behaviour and her change weren't due to somebody or something happening elsewhere… and that more feelings than hers were at stake.

It became imperative, then, to cancel from her eyes that shade that nothing seemed to be able to dissipate, lately, and to clarify: it was about time to make things right, he decided, about time indeed.

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_June 1999_

Harry was looking disbelievingly at the parchment in his hands.

Since the day when that damned Skeeter had published that tripe about Snape, all kinds of oddities had begun to spread, giving the Aurors' department a lot of overwork. Right, but this… this wasn't something he couldn't ignore or pass to a colleague.

In the unmistakable spidery handwriting that he remembered so well from his schooldays, the letter said:

"_Potter, _

_I'm tired of all the rumours circulating concerning my disappearance._

_I'll be at Spinner's End tomorrow, at midnight. Since this will be the first occasion of my return, I'd rather talk to you than to a squad of reckless coppers, if you'll meet me there._

_Severus Snape" _

If this was an attempt by one of the few Death Eaters still at large to lure him into a trap, it was a very good one, the young wizard thought.

But, if the message was true… well, he couldn't miss _the_ meeting that up to that moment had been so cruelly denied to him, to both of them, by destiny and history.

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Hidden under his invisibility cloak, he saw the wizard approach and enter; Harry was grinning at his own cleverness in going there an hour before the appointment, when…

"You can reveal yourself, Potter" Snape purred, without even turning his head, and pretending to be still looking at the bookshelf that he had examined for some minutes, apparently unaware of the other wizard's presence.

"Did you really expect to take me by surprise by arriving earlier? Not doing so would have been a reckless action, even for somebody as reckless as you, I would suppose," he went on, and Harry had no more doubts about the identity of the wizard whose velvety voice and sneering manner he knew far too well.

"Welcome back to the world, Snape" he managed to say, uncovering himself: and, remembering how much he owed to the man, he silenced the impulse to react by retaliating to his barbs.

They were a sight, now, staring at each other. Harry sighed and went on.

"Whatever the reason for your decision to reveal yourself is, I'll try to do my best to help you, Professor. But, first of all and above all, I must say 'thank you' for everything you did. Now I know the truth and I'm happy that I can finally tell you that I consider you the bravest man in the world… and I want to ask your forgiveness for the many times I didn't."

"Yes, Potter, I'm aware of these new sentiments of yours," Snape answered. "And that's the reason for my presence."

Harry waited, feeling a bit disconcerted; surely Snape wasn't there to merely acknowledge his praises?

"You started this mess, Potter, now you can fix it!" Snape suddenly thundered, holding the infamous biography between two disgusted fingers, then slamming it on the table with a loud thud.

Harry blushed, and at that sign Snape seemed to relax, heading to his old armchair and gesturing at the sofa on his left.

"Sit, and let's see how you can make it possible for me to come back to our world without losing my peace and my mind… not to mention my face. You owe me this, you know, after all the details you trumpeted during your last duel with Voldemort."

Harry suppressed the urge to pinch himself; now he needed to be sure that the man comfortably sat next to him and pronouncing that dreaded name with such nonchalance really _was_ who he had claimed to be.

Then, watching the smug expression that he sported, and realising the easiness with which he was giving orders, the young wizard muttered, making sure that his words were audible to the other man, "Leave it to Snape to make this one of the most embarrassing jobs I've ever done in my entire life…"

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"Hermione you'd better be there, this time," Harry's first words had been, his body already half-through her fireplace.

She was in her flat; she had been there more often than in the past, lately.

She had just started studying for a forthcoming test after many useless efforts to concentrate, so the interruption wasn't really welcome.

"What is it now, Harry? Single-handedly captured the Giant Squid?" she asked, huffing a bit and rolling her eyes.

"May I come in? This time you can't even begin to guess, I assure you," he went on, trying to tempt her curiosity.

He was right.

She couldn't have.

Amazed, she listened to Harry's revelations about his meeting with Snape, wearing a stunned look that, luckily, her friend ascribed to the news he had carried rather than to her true reasons.

"Hermione, you must help me," he then pleaded. "You know what it's like to endure the _Daily Prophet_'s provocations and the inventions of that horrid woman!"

He paused for some moments; then, looking at the pensive witch, he went on.

"You were right, Hermione; he was saved by a phoenix as you guessed when you found that golden feather. But things didn't happen like Skeeter wrote, by manipulating the few things that Aberforth told her in his interview… Snape gave me a fascinating tale, much more fantastic than whatever a reporter's imagination could come up with."

"Tell me," she whispered.

And he told her the enchanting truth of which, up to that moment, she had only received a few glimpses.

"Then, Hermione, he did something even more unexpected… He pulled out an envelope from the front of his robes – did I tell you that he still wears those black robes? – and said, "_I believe that this is yours, Potter, and that it would be right for it to be kept with that portion of the letter which I left behind. I don't need it anymore, neither in my pocket nor in my mind. I'm returning it to you, so that you'll be able to convince everyone of my present feelings and of my need to have some peace, at last."_

The boy took a deep breath, his eyes still opened in astonishment.

"And there it was, Hermione, the photo from which my mother looked at me, smiling."

Harry too was now smiling, remembering how he had suddenly perceived that Snape's gesture wasn't a rejection of Lily's memory but, primarily, a sign that the older wizard was finally at peace with himself. Later, the boy had carefully put that half photograph together with the other half that showed his father and his baby self, and completed it.

"It was like putting a real end to everything, Hermione" he concluded, a dreamy expression in his green eyes; and, for a moment, he almost forgot what the git had demanded of him, and the real reason for this visit to the cleverest among his friends.

Just for a moment, though.

"Hermione?"

Blinking away threatened tears and controlling her quickened heartbeats and strong emotion, she managed to answer:

"It's wonderful, Harry. It really is."

The young wizard gently squeezed her shoulder and urged, "I need a plan, Hermione."

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_July 1999_

Once more, an uproarious crowd was gathered in the bookshop and in front of it.

Many excited voices were commenting on the imminent conference whose advance advertising promised great revelations.

"Severus Snape: neither a Scoundrel nor a Saint. A debate on Rita Skeeter's last best-seller, featuring the presentation of its revised edition – now on sale - with a special contribution by the famous Harry Potter!"

The presence of the heroic young saviour was already an event in itself, since the Boy Who Had Lived Twice was usually very shy of honours.

Furthermore, rumours had been spread that something really unimaginable might happen during his speech, and nobody wanted to miss the chance to witness such an occasion, whatever it might be.

The owner of the shop, accompanied by the editors of the book that had generated all this interest, cast a Sonorus charm to request everyone's attention, and the public went silent.

"Welcome, Mr Potter. Please, let's begin," he then warmly invited the boy. And Harry began.

"All through my life, since I first I discovered that I was a wizard, I had to endure impossible threats generated by my enemies and, at the same time, survive the unwanted attention so kindly paid to me by public opinion, in every action I took."

"I still can't decide what was more difficult to bear," he grinned, "but I can say that being alive and having being allowed to return to a normal life is enough compensation for me now. And isn't that what each and everyone of us would wish?"

He paused, letting his gaze linger on the many people listening in silence.

"I know that this is true, and I know very well that, the more our lives have been in danger, the less we wish to be continuously reminded of the risks we have overcome. When Ms Skeeter started to write Severus Snape's biography, I was one of those that applauded her project. I thought that her book would be a reminder of his actions, a way to clear him from every possible accusation in the event that he might still be alive somewhere, making everyone aware of how he had redeemed his faults, willingly sacrificing his life… Today I'm here to confirm that he did indeed do everything the book says, and to reveal that what we knew up to now wasn't the whole story."

After a dramatic pause, he spoke again, raising his tone in a triumphal announcement.

"Severus Snape is alive, and therefore, like every human being still living, not yet ready to be canonised!"

After a few seconds of astonishment, the room and the street exploded in enthusiastic applause.

"However, he will not be present today, as some rumours seemed to suggest," Harry Potter went on. "I can say that, even though I consider him the bravest man that I have ever known, he would 'fear' the embrace of this grateful multitude, right at this moment!"

Sweating, the young hero felt that it was time to end his speech, making his final plea.

"But he let me know that he will return, sooner or later, if you'll respect his longing for peace and his desire to be left alone. Until then, let's enjoy his tale, updated in this ultimate version!" he concluded, blushing and pointing at the piles of books on his left.

The covers of the volumes displayed the same weird duo of the first edition, but now the expression shown by the wizard seemed, if not friendly, a bit more relaxed.

Beaming with greedy expectation, Rita Skeeter – now definitely consecrated as "the Author of the Moment" - was standing proudly near her works, ready to sign them, and displaying her most mischievous attire and the look of a vulture ready to feast.

From the corner of the shop, hidden behind an old bookshelf, a dark figure nodded in approval before Disapparating.

"Very well, Potter, and more articulate than usual, at least!"

ψΨψΨψΨψΨψΨψΨψΨψΨψΨψΨψΨψ

She hadn't trusted herself to go visiting him anymore, after Harry's revelations. Nor had she wished to assist at the press conference that her friend had had to organize and endure.

Nevertheless, the hope to see Severus soon, without deliberately searching for him, had accompanied her days up to that moment.

So, she wasn't completely surprised to see him Apparate into the middle of the small living room of her flat in Dublin, at the end of the day in which Harry had revealed to the masses the truth about Severus' survival.

Yet, seeing him in front of her, imposing in his black attire and wearing the frock coat that he had no longer been using during the period of their meetings, her heart was beating furiously.

"You're back," she said, rising from her seat and closing the distance between them.

"And you are free from your promises, Miss Granger," he said, but the solemnity of his words wasn't reflected in his tone, nor in his soft look at her.

Without averting her gaze from him, a shining smile in her eyes, she continued, "The one I made to you is only the latest of the commitments from which I'm free, you know".

"I know. I understood, though belatedly, that you had solved your problems in a very different way than I had supposed. It was a stunning realization, I assure you, but since that moment, I knew that from my side, too, there was something to resolve and to change."

"And you did it… also managing a little revenge along the way, it seems," she teased.

"Ah, but I knew that Potter would put his troubles in capable hands, as he always did… though I must admit that, this time, I had strongly hoped that he would do so."

"How Slytherin…" she observed, smiling.

"I don't think so, Hermione. It took to me quite a while to realise, so I'm not such a great symbol of my House's intuition and cunning, I'd say" he replied, moving a few steps nearer to the woman. "And I'm not just speaking of understanding words…"

"Neither of us was very good with words, perhaps…" she commented, remotely realizing the oddity of that statement when applied to a girl known for her long explanations and quotes, and to a man that used his bewitching voice as one of his most effective weapons.

"Words aren't always the best way to explain, Hermione," he whispered, and she felt how much nearer he was to her, now.

And then they were nearer and nearer, until the last shadow of trepidation quickly dissipated in the warmest of kisses.

Almost breathless, Hermione distanced herself a bit, searching for his gaze.

She needed to know.

"You never lie, Severus… so, why did you lie to my question about Lily?"

"I didn't. I'll always love those who I loved. But words have many different meanings, you know… as different as the moments when we say them" he answered, still holding her by her waist.

Fondly, Hermione cupped his cheeks in her hands, feeling his arms tightening around her.

"Yes, yes, I see," she went on softly.

Then, since her knees were slightly wobbling, she led him to the nearest seat.

"So…" she resumed talking when she felt able to do so, "We are both free from promises, at last."

"And are you certain you know what you'll do with your freedom, Hermione?" he asked, challenging her with an ironical tone that successfully hid what he was actually feeling and that caught her by surprise.

Disconcerted, Hermione looked at him with widened eyes, without understanding.

Until she suddenly knew.

"Yes, Severus, I think I am. Just like I'm sure – and no promises are needed to feel it – that this time I won't fail. I'm certain that, whatever would be the right word for it, this" she emphasized pointing to his chest and to herself "is something that will last forever."

For a moment he felt all the incredulity that a lifetime of suffered desertions had accustomed him to feel. And it seemed almost impossible to trust a statement like that, no matter how he wished it to be true.

But, then, a shorter and more recent time, a time in which he had experienced a new kind of care, and of love, came to his mind through the faithful gaze of the woman in front of him.

So he nodded smiling, and ...

"Forever," he repeated, throwing away every thought of foolishness and savoring the word in all its exclusive, new, different meaning, before kissing her again, and again, and again.

ψΨψΨψΨψΨψΨψΨψΨψΨψΨψΨψΨψ

_Author's Notes:_

_As for everyone who sends tales into the open to be shared... reviews are most welcome!_

_The section breaks are borrowed, as in my previous stories, from: www. whitehound. co. uk/Fanfic/ffn_how-to. htm_


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